Recovery (Fall and Rise of the Condor 6)
by jublke
Summary: Jason has finally been reinstated to the G-Force team. But he has to deal with the after-effects of his implant surgery - and his new physical limitations. Sixth in the Fall and Rise of the Condor series.
1. Chapter 1

This is a work of fan-fiction. _Battle of the Planets_ is the property of Sandy Frank by way of Tatsunoko. No copyright infringement is intended. This entire piece was influenced by cathrl's _Battle AU_ series (thanks for loaning me a quart of Battle spackle, Cath!) and one scene is deeply indebted to Jane Lebak's _Father Joe_ series.

My thanks to Becky Rock, Chris White, and cathrl for beta-reading - thanks for all of the wonderful suggestions! Any remaining errors are mine. Special thanks to chickeebaybee for drawing a picture for this one.

This story is set roughly six months after _Strike at Spectra_. In my Fall and Rise of the Condor series, it follows _Rebuilding, Rock Bottom, Revelations_ , and directly follows _Reinstatement_.

* * *

"So, how did it go?" Mark asked. A half-read detective novel lay open on a wheeled table by his bedside, along with an unappetizing array of leftover breakfast items. Two days post implant surgery and Mark was already sitting upright in his hospital bed, a light blue flannel robe draped over his shoulders, drinking a cup of tea. Looking at Jason, Mark felt a pang of guilt. At this stage in his second's recovery, Jason had barely been able to raise his head.

Jason leaned back as far as he could in the visitor's chair, threaded his hands behind his head, and put his feet up on Mark's hospital bed before answering. He appeared to be giving the question considerable thought.

"Fine," he finally answered with a shrug. At Mark's raised eyebrows, Jason quickly added, "But we missed you out there."

"Liar," Mark replied with smirk. "I heard about your fancy flying. Show off."

Jason rewarded him with a slight smile before responding. "No, I mean it," he said. "It's not the same without you." Jason paused before continuing, more softly, "But then, nothing's the same."

When Jason didn't add anything more, Mark looked at his friend's posture for clarification. But, as often was the case with the Condor, Jason was difficult to read. His eyes were somber and thoughtful behind his newly issued, ISO-approved glasses.

Jason's glasses - a recently added, permanent addition to his second's required uniform. Mark cast a glance at his latest mystery novel. _And I haven't needed reading glasses since surgery. Another reminder that things are different_ , Mark thought.

Something about Jason's posture reminded Mark of how Jason had looked right after his recent fitness exam - before the Chief had trounced him for keeping secrets - proud but embarrassed. Proud that he had completed all of the maneuvers and would be eligible to retain his place on the team, yet painfully embarrassed at his fall from grace. Jason had been reduced to barely completing the simplest aerials that would allow for G clearance. Jason, who had often scoffed at the simplicity of the yearly fitness requirements, had nearly been derailed by them.

Mark tried to imagine what it would be like to lose such a vital part of himself. _What if I have to go through that, too? What if I can't fly?_ The thought literally made him nauseous. _I'm not up for this_ , Mark realized. Pushing his troubled thoughts as deeply as possible, he closed his eyes and slipped into sleep.

When he awoke, his breakfast tray had been removed and replaced by tepid chicken noodle soup, saltine crackers, and a fresh cup of tea. Mark opened the cellophane wrapped plastic dinnerware and extracted the spork. He tasted the soup. It was better than average for hospital food.

Jason was snoring in the lumpy side chair, long limbs sprawled in every direction, his feet still resting on Mark's bed frame. He was still wearing his glasses.

 _He must be exhausted. He hasn't moved a muscle._

Someone - Mark suspected Jessie, one of Center Neptune's nursing interns - had covered his second with a blanket.

 _Well, not my second for now. But hopefully soon._

Mark's surgery had gone surprisingly well. Mark knew, even before the Chief had told him, his surgery had been a success. When his consciousness emerged from the dregs of anesthesia, Mark had realized with delight that he could hear again - clearly and distinctly - from both ears. It was as if an auditory rainbow had returned. Mark found that he was now mesmerized by sounds. Unlike his fellow patients, Mark enjoyed listening to the noises of the hospital at night: the thrum of the heating system, the click-clack of the medicine carts, the nurses' chatter. He hadn't realized how much he had lost. He was so grateful for its return.

His joy at having his hearing restored almost made up for the wrenching fatigue and headaches. Mark wasn't surprised by the fatigue, but it was still annoying. He had watched Jason work through the same exhaustion during his first post-surgical days. And he'd always had headaches. Just not this bad.

But Mark knew that he had one advantage that Jason didn't: Mark's implant surgery had been second. And that made all the difference. Mark's surgeons not only had access to detailed records and micrographs of Jason's failed implant, they had dutifully charted Jason's recovery with exacting precision. Jason's recent fitness exam, complete with his near failure at aerials, had proven highly useful.

Mark's surgery may have taken longer, but his recovery would be much smoother, according to the Chief. "We now think we know what has affected Jason's sense of balance," the Chief had said. "We were able to avoid that section of your neural bridge when we repaired your implant. When the surgeons worked on Jason, they disturbed a portion of that area. No one suspected the extent to which the brain would adapt to using that sector of the implant. Design-wise, it should have simply been an access point for repair. However, we now know that there are specific physiological adaptations that occur after an implant has been in place for a number of years."

Thinking of this, Mark winced in sympathy. _And how do we know this?_ he wanted to shout. _Because you cut into my second's brain and used him as a guinea pig!_ That was unfair, Mark knew. His own problems hadn't even been detected until after Jason's surgery and it wasn't like there were any other patients. The rest of the team had been issued a slightly different model. New trainees were given a redesigned implant, which hopefully would be resistant to Spectra's attempts to damage the circuitry.

Now that the ethics board of Galaxy Security had finally relented on their earlier objections to the implant program - _seeing Zoltar's wrath thwarted by G-Force could be quite convincing_ , Mark thought - the Red Rangers were first in line to get a new squadron modeled after G-Force. Darien's fellow R-Command recruits were the first to have been issued the newly redesigned implant.

Thinking of Darien temporarily taking his place, Mark felt his stomach clench. The Chief had tried to reassure Mark that both he and Jason would - should - recover fully over time, but there were no guarantees. Jason's sense of balance, previously his greatest strength, was now his greatest weakness. Mark could feel the bile rise in his throat.

 _What if the Chief is wrong?_

* * *

Princess could hear the cadence of the punching bag rocking on its metal hook long before she walked to the end of the hall and knocked on the door to the training room. The rhythm was fast, deadly, and accurate. Since Mark was still recuperating in the Center Neptune infirmary, there was only one other person that could be administering blows like that. She was amazed that he still had energy after their last mission. Zoltar's minions had infiltrated Rigan headquarters. The near assassination of the Rigan president, the bomb scare, mass panic, explosions ... it tired her all over again just to think about it.

"Jason?" Princess knocked at the door.

No answer. The cadence of pummeling continued unabated, a fast staccato rhythm. _If he's got his headphones on, he won't even hear me_ , thought Princess. She pushed the door open.

Jason stood before the punching bag, fighting stance, wearing an intense expression. His fists were a blur. To Princess' surprise, he wasn't wearing headphones. He acknowledged her presence with a slight nod of the head, never breaking cadence or faltering with his punches. His face and arms glistened with sweat.

When she didn't speak, he cocked an eyebrow. "You ... need ... something?" he asked, between each series of blows.

 _How long has he been down here?_ Princess wondered. "I need to talk to you, Jason."

"Can't ... it ... wait?" he asked, his fists continuing to beat in a perfect rhythm, using perfect form.

"No," she said simply. _Not when you're like this._

He raised the other eyebrow, gave the bag a final whack, and walked over to her, panting and sweating. "What's up?" he asked. His blue-grey eyes looked at her expectantly. He stripped off the boxing gloves.

She paused before speaking, as if she were carefully weighing each word. "I think you're training too hard."

He took a drink from his water bottle and stared at her. "You came down here to tell me that?" he said with a snort.

She folded her arms. "Yes, I did. You haven't taken any time off since we got back from Riga."

He shrugged, turned his back to her, and grabbed his towel from a waiting chair. Slowly, he dried the sweat from his face and removed the tape from his left wrist. When it became clear that he didn't intend to respond, Princess pressed on.

"Jason, I'm serious," she said.

"So am I," he replied, turning to face her. His voice was calm and deadly.

She returned his glare. "You're down here whenever you're not with Mark. What are you trying to prove? You need to get some rest."

"I'm fine," Jason replied, throwing a punch into the air.

"You're not fine, Jason. You're training all the time. When did you eat last? Or sleep?" She repeated her earlier question. "What are you trying to prove?"

He walked toward the door and flicked off the lights. "I'm going up to bed," he said, and headed into the hall.

She stormed out of the training room and ran down the hallway after him. Grabbing him by the left arm, she said, "No, you're not! I want to know what's going on."

He flicked his wrist to dislodge her grip, swore, and turned to face her, fury written in every muscle of his body. "Nothing is going on! What the hell? First, you worry that I'm not fit to be back on the team and now you think I'm too fit?" He swore again.

She ignored his outburst. "You're working too hard," she said, in a gentle but firm voice. "What if we get called out right now? You're exhausted."

"I'm fine," Jason spat out. "I appreciate your concern, Princess," he said, in a voice that made it obvious that he neither appreciated nor wanted her concern, "but I'm fine." He gave her an exaggerated fake smile. "Really." And then he stalked down the hall.

"Jason, please don't do this," Princess called to his retreating back. He rounded the corner and left her standing alone.

"Please," she pleaded. Her voice echoed in the empty hall.


	2. Chapter 2

_Buzzing. Where is that buzzing coming from?_ Jason turned over in bed and stared at his wrist, uncomprehending. _Why is my wrist moving?_

"Commander, acknowledge." Zark's tinny voice came through the wrist com. The sprinkles of color emanating from his wrist were no longer the small flashes of light associated with early warning. The Bird Scramble was on its final sequence. Strobe lights flashed across the trailer. Jason punched the face plate of his bracelet and his wrist finally stopped vibrating.

 _Damn. How long has that thing been going off?_ He squinted at the alarm clock across the room. _10:16 a.m. Did I oversleep that alarm too? Or did I just forget to set it?_

"Commander?" 7-Zark-7's overly worried voice grated against his every nerve. Jason fought hard to not to snap back.

"Acknowledged," Jason said. "Be right there." He put on his glasses, rolled out of bed, and ran through a quick series of stretches, slowing briefly to thoroughly flex his right ankle. When he got to his left wrist, he winced.

 _What the hell? Why is my wrist still sore?_

"No need, Commander," Zark replied in his usual chirpy tone. "Your team is already airborne. They're coming to pick you up."

Jason rolled his eyes and sighed. _Damn. How would Mark handle this?_

Jason thought and failed to recall any missions where Mark had missed the Scramble for anything short of a galactic emergency. In those rare cases where Mark had chosen to ignore a call from the Chief, he had done so deliberately.

 _And_ , Jason thought, _Mark wouldn't still be in bed at 10 a.m._ He swore under his breath. _Great, just great._

"Commander?" Zark was starting to sound worried again.

"Understood. Over and out, Zark."

* * *

"G-2, report to my office immediately." The announcement came in as soon as the ship had docked at Center Neptune, even before the sea water had finished draining from the large holding bay.

Jason swore under his breath before he responded. "Acknowledged."

He turned to Princess and Darien. "Finish debrief without me. I've got nothing to report, anyway," he added.

Twenty hours in the air with nothing to do but shadow another ship. Jason had set the team up in shifts, but no one really slept well aboard the Phoenix, so he wasn't sure why he had bothered. The bunks in the sleeping chamber were hard, narrow, and musty. Jason made a mental note to tell housekeeping to air out the room.

Darien nodded. "Apart from that one Spectran fighter, there was no activity in the entire quadrant. I guess they didn't need us to guard that freighter after all." He bowed slightly, which Jason suddenly remembered was the traditional Rigan way of saying thanks.

During the long, tedious flight, Jason had decided to change things up. He had asked Princess to show Tiny how to work communications. Tiny had taught Darien how to fly the Phoenix. And Jason had let Keyop blow up a few asteroids. Unofficially, of course. On the record, they were suspected Spectran bases.

"Finally," Keyop piped in. He unstrapped himself and came to stand by Darien. "Maybe Spectra took a ... rrt ... doot ... vacation."

The Red Ranger smiled at Keyop. Jason, despite his foul mood, couldn't help but smile too. Keyop hadn't exactly warmed to the newcomer, but seeing Jason back in action and Mark on his way to recovery finally seemed to have relaxed the boy.

 _About damn time_ , Jason thought. _I don't think I could handle reading another complaint form without losing my mind._ He stretched and yawned.

"I wonder what the Chief wants to see you about." Princess' voice held a slight pensive note.

Jason was wondering the same thing, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of admitting it. _He couldn't possibly have learned about the asteroids already, could he?_ Jason wondered exactly how he would justify those extra missiles.

Darien gave him a curious look. _He's probably wondering the same thing_ , Jason thought. _But at least he's keeping his mouth shut._

Jason glared at Princess. "G-3, I'd like a word with you. In private." His words were steel.

Tiny glanced at Darien and Keyop, using his finger to make a quick slash across his neck. He gestured at his two teammates to leave, and quickly. The three young men filed out, leaving Jason and Princess alone on the bridge.

Jason stood up and glared at the Swan. "Don't - ever - do that again!" he spat out, as soon as the others were out of earshot.

"Jason, what are you talking about?" Princess asked. She genuinely did look confused, which frustrated him even more.

"Exactly," he fumed. "Look, would you have asked Mark why the Chief needed to see him?"

Princess shrugged. "I don't know. I might." She didn't sound convincing.

"Would you ask Mark if he was feeling all right? Training too hard? If he needed to take some time off?" Jason was finding it hard not to yell. "How do you think that looks? I've finally got Darien and Keyop in line and now you're undermining my authority. You're my second in command. You're supposed to back me up."

Princess looked at the ground. "Yes, Commander," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Good," he responded curtly. "Don't let it happen again." He turned away from her and went back to shutting down his station.

Princess didn't move. She stood uneasily alongside him, staring at the back of his head. When it became apparent that she wasn't going to leave, Jason turned and spoke more forcefully.

"Princess," he snapped. "You are dismissed. Go to debrief." There was no mistaking his command tone, and yet she still didn't leave. _What the hell?_

"Jason, we need to talk ..."

At that moment, Jason's wrist com began to vibrate. "Jason, report. Where are you?" The Chief sounded angry.

Jason looked up and met Princess' eyes without emotion. "I'm on my way," he said.

* * *

The Chief made sure that the door to his office was closed and locked before he gestured at Jason to sit down. _That's not a good sign._ Jason sat rigidly in one of the hard-backed guest chairs.

"We need to talk," the Chief said.

Jason flinched involuntarily. _That was the last thing Princess said to me. Was she trying to warn me about something? Maybe I should have listened to her._ He nodded intently, imagining the reprimand for the extra munitions and trying to think of a good justification for using them.

"I've been reviewing your medical and field records. Your implant isn't working to full capacity."

The words hit like a blow. Jason tried not to hyperventilate. _This is not good._ He forced his voice to remain calm. "What exactly does that mean?"

The Chief cleared his throat. "Is your wrist still sore?"

Jason flexed his left arm before he thought about it, then blushed when he realized that the Chief was watching him. "Yes," he admitted. "But how did you know?"

"We've been maintaining close tabs on you since your reinstatement. I know that you took a blow to the wrist last week on Riga."

"But how did you know that it still hurts?" Jason pressed.

"You're registering a fever and inflammation in that area," the Chief said. "And you shouldn't be. You've had a full week to recover. For a minor injury like that, your wrist should have been back to normal a few days ago."

Jason nodded. "That's what I thought, too." He sighed and looked away. "I guess I should have reported it."

The Chief held up two fingers. "You've got two strikes against you," he said. "One, you're not getting enough rest. And two, your implant is taking longer to recharge than it used to because you're not getting enough sleep." He gave Jason a hard look. "I don't want to see you lose your place on this team, Jason. You've got to pace yourself."

Jason blanched.

At his stunned expression, the Chief continued. "I know that you're used to pushing yourself as hard as you need to in any situation. You've always been able to keep going longer than the rest of the team."

Jason nodded again. _Of course._

Anderson shook his head. "But you've got to recognize your limits, Jason. You have to rely more on the others. Princess is very concerned about you. She came in to talk to me yesterday. You need to take better care of yourself."

 _Princess. No wonder she wanted to talk to me._ Jason swore. "She should have kept her mouth shut. It's none of her damn business." Jason spat out the words before he realized what he was saying and who he was saying it to.

"Yes, Jason, it is her business," the Chief said, in a calm but firm voice. "Your physical condition is your team's business, like it or not. She's your second in command. You can't just boss her around. You have to listen to her, too."

"Yes, sir." Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes. But then his mind replayed what the Chief had just said. _My implant isn't working to full capacity._ The implications of that statement began to sink in. Jason felt the weight on his shoulders and closed his eyes.

The Chief cleared his throat. "Don't take this the wrong way, Jason," he said. "Your implant works. In fact, it's functioning fairly well. I'm not saying that you aren't fit, or that you aren't fully capable of taking down a squad of Spectran soldiers single-handedly. You are, by far, the best field operative under my command next to Mark. None of that has changed."

Jason tried to accept the compliment, but it was hard. He felt physically ill at the suggestion that something else could be wrong with his implant.

The older man stood up from his plush office chair and walked around to where Jason was seated. Anderson patted Jason on the shoulder, then folded his arms and leaned one hip against his desk next to him. "But you have to work with me here. Training harder isn't going to fix this. You have to get out of the way and let your implant do its job. Take it easy between missions. Get more sleep."

Jason opened his eyes and swallowed. "How far out of range?"

"What?" The Chief frowned slightly. "Oh, your implant. I never said it was out of range, Jason. It's within specs for functionality. But your recharge phases aren't working as efficiently as they should. That's making your recovery times longer, especially when you're not taking care of yourself. If you change your behavior, I don't think it will affect your performance." He pointed a finger at Jason. "But you're going to run into a problem if you don't start taking some time off in between missions. You've been treating your body as if you're invincible." The Chief took off his glasses and rubbed the lenses methodically with a handkerchief before putting them back on. He fixed Jason with a hard stare. "You're not."

Jason shuddered.

The Chief went on. "I wanted to catch you before you left Center Neptune today. You should stay here and get some rest as soon as possible. Intel expects another strike from Spectra in the next day or two."

Jason set his face like flint. "What about my balance?"

The Chief shook his head. "I don't know, Jason," he admitted. "But your equilibrium has steadily improved since we've started tracking your progress. Your last scans support that - we're seeing more activity in that region of your brain. That's a good sign. I suspect that your neural bridge will fully regenerate over time."

"And if it doesn't?"

The Chief gave him a hard look. "You'll have to learn to live with what you can do."

Jason put a hand to his forehead. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Yes, sir." His words were a whisper.

The Chief gestured at his left arm. Reluctantly, Jason held out his wrist for the Chief to inspect. After turning Jason's arm over, poking and prodding until he invoked a wince, the Chief nodded at Jason and reached across his desk.

"Here. Take this to Medical and have them X-ray that wrist. You don't appear to have a serious injury, but I'm not taking any chances. And when they're done with you, get some sleep."

Jason took the form in silence.

Anderson walked back to his desk chair. When he sat down, chair squeaking in protest, Jason knew that the meeting was over. He put his glasses back on and tried to calm his thoughts, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.

 _Once I walk out that door, I have to live with everything the Chief just told me._

Jason sat in front of Chief Anderson's desk and tried to cobble his thoughts back together. After a few minutes, he stood to go. His hand was on the door when he heard the Chief's voice.

"And Jason?"

Jason turned around. _Please, no more bad news._

"Go talk to Princess."


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, Jason decided to call a team meeting. It would be easier than explaining things to each of them individually. He watched his teammates enter the ready room and he waited impatiently as they fanned around the table and took their seats. Finally, four expectant faces were staring at him.

Jason had hoped that a straight talk would cut down on gossip and speculation. Once his staff was assembled, though, he found it hard to speak. _Don't mince words_ , he told himself. _Just get right to the point._

Jason cleared his throat. "I called you in here today ..."

"Jason! Your wrist!" Princess interrupted. Darien, Tiny, and Keyop joined her in staring at his left arm.

 _Well, this is going well_ , Jason thought.

He crossed his arms, folding his right arm over his bandaged left one. He gave Princess a hard look before continuing. She looked away.

"As I was saying, I called you in here today because I wanted you to hear this from me. Medical has found another problem with my implant ..."

There were three sharp inhalations of breath and one "Oh!" from Princess.

 _Damn. I guess I should have said that differently._

".. but it's a minor problem," he said. "Emphasis on the word 'minor'. Nothing like before. I'm only telling you because I want to change a few procedures around here." _And I don't want you second-guessing my decisions. Or gossiping about me behind my back._

Keyop cocked an eyebrow. "Change what?"

"Jason, what's wrong?" Princess asked.

"The recharge phase of my implant isn't working as well as it should," Jason said. "The Chief thinks that I need more time for ..." He gritted his teeth. _Do I have to admit this?_ "... rest and recovery." Jason's frustration spilled out with every word. He couldn't bring himself to look at Princess.

"And your wrist?" she pressed.

"Again," Jason said, daring to glance at her this time, "it's nothing serious. I injured it when that goon slammed into me during the bombing on Riga. I guess I didn't rest it long enough. Medical wants me to keep my wrist immobile for the next few days whenever we're off-duty to let the implant do its job. It won't affect me in the field."

Princess looked marginally pacified, but her eyes remained riveted on his wrist.

Darien spoke for the first time. "You said you wanted to change some procedures, Commander?"

"Yes," Jason said, thankful for the change of subject. "I need to alter some of our usual assignments. I know that normally the Commander goes last through debriefing, but I need to start going first."

Keyop gave him an odd look. "Uh, why?"

Jason sighed. _I can do this. I can ask for help. I hope you appreciate this, Chief._ "The sooner I get out of debrief, the sooner I can go off-duty. I'm supposed to be getting more rest, remember?" He looked around the table. His team universally looked worried.

Jason shook his head. "You can talk to the Chief if you have more questions. I've been assured that this isn't something that will affect my performance on duty. I've been this way since surgery."

Jason paused to let the implications of that statement sink in. Three successful missions. Other than oversleeping the Bird Scramble when they escorted the transport, he knew he'd performed well in the field.

"I've been training hard in my off-hours, thinking that would help my fitness and speed up my recovery. Apparently, that's been keeping the implant from doing its job. The Chief said that I need to give myself some time after every mission to rest. I haven't been doing that." Keyop and Darien's faces began to relax. Tiny looked thoughtful. Only Princess still appeared stricken.

Jason placed his one hand on the table, the gesture as open-postured as he could manage. "The only thing that will be different is that I'm going to try to take it easy for the first couple of hours after we get back from a mission instead of heading straight to the track or the gym." He looked at Princess pointedly.

She met his gaze and spoke quietly. "Do you want me to write up the debriefing memos for you?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I think it would make more sense to do it that way."

"I can fill out the requisition forms, too," she added.

Jason nodded again.

"What else?" asked Darien.

Jason looked around the table at each of them in turn. "Let me know if you think of something. I don't need or want special treatment, but ways to make our procedures more efficient - especially docking and tear down - would be useful." He looked at Darien. "I know you've given this a lot of thought, Falcon. If you've got some changes you'd like to suggest for our Standard Operating Procedures, now's the time. Send me your report."

Darien nodded. "I'd be happy to."

Tiny ventured a look at Jason. His tone was hesitant. "Uh, Jase. I'm just wondering ... does it make sense to keep those 6 a.m. training sessions?"

Jason laughed. Tiny's face relaxed completely.

"Not one of my better ideas, huh? You were right, Tiny. It was a stupid idea. It doesn't make sense to set up any training for the first day back, let alone at the crack of dawn. I think we should drop training for the entire day after a mission."

Jason heard murmurings of agreement around the table. Finally, Keyop spoke.

"How long?" he asked.

"How long what?" Jason replied. Tiny cast a sidelong glance at Princess and shook his head.

"Until you're better," Keyop clarified. Darien winced.

"Keyop!" Princess wailed.

Jason held up his good hand. "No, it's okay. I'd rather you guys ask me directly." He looked at Keyop. "You mean, until my implant is better, Keyop?" The boy nodded.

Jason shook his head. "That's a good question. Nobody knows. The Chief says everything's within specs." Jason swallowed. "So it could keep improving or this could be as good as it gets."

His teammates looked at each other. Jason tried to read their minds, without success, while he waited for someone - anyone - to break the silence.

Finally, Darien smiled at him. "That's good enough for me," he said.

"Me, too," said Keyop.

"We're all behind you, Jason," Tiny said. "We'll make it work."

"Thanks." Jason hadn't realized that he was holding his breath until he exhaled. Only Princess hadn't spoken.

"And now, I need to talk to my second. Alone. Owl, Falcon, Swallow, you are dismissed."

* * *

He wouldn't look at her. Didn't speak a word. Just walked around the table with that look on his face, the same look he used to stare down Spectran goons and force them to surrender without ever drawing a weapon. Jason knew his reputation and he often used it to its full advantage. But she couldn't remember the last time he had tried to use it on her.

Princess sat back in the chair, folded her arms, and stared ahead resolutely. _Not this time._ Her eyes narrowed into the Condor stare. _Two can play at this game._

"You deliberately went behind my back," he said, finally. Almost his command voice, she noted, but she could hear the edge of anger he was trying so desperately to control. "Your behavior could have cost me my place on the team."

She stared at him. _Is he serious?_ "Your behavior could have landed you in the infirmary." She looked pointedly at his wrist. "Or worse!"

"You should have come to me first." Cold, calculated words.

Princess stood up. He was goading her, she knew, hoping his artificial calm would prod her into letting her guard down and reacting to him emotionally. _Mark must use this technique on Jason._ But, even knowing that, she found that she just couldn't let his comment pass.

"I did! I tried! Every time I came to talk to you, you had some excuse about why it wasn't a good time. It's never a good time to talk to you, Jason."

He stiffened, just slightly, and she knew her statement had hit its mark. He glared at her.

She shook her head. "You treat me like I'm not even here!" Now that she had started talking, her frustration spilled over, the words flowing faster and faster. "You never listen to me, you never consider what I have to say. You're trying to run this team all by yourself and you're going to get yourself killed." The words were out of her mouth before she could take them back.

"It's good to know you have such faith in my command." His sarcasm was edged in ice.

Just then, their bracelets pinged in unison. Bird Scramble. A series of flashes bespoke the urgency: _Get airborne. Now._

And, just like that, Jason's command face crumbled. Princess could read the panic in his eyes. He swore and punched the nearest chair.

Instinctively, she set aside her anger and reached out to him. "Jason, what's wrong?"

He locked his jaw and looked at her warily. Just when she thought he wasn't going to answer, he spoke in a whisper. "I can't move my wrist."

She made a face and shook her head at him. "So? We'll cut the bandages off. You can have Medical re-wrap you when we get back. The implant will keep you going until then, right?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Something wasn't right, but he didn't volunteer the information.

"Jason, Princess, where are you?" 7-Zark-7 sounded worried.

Jason spoke into his wrist com. "We'll be right there, Zark." Then, he put his unwrapped hand to his face. "Can this day get any worse?"

Princess tried to stay calm. It unnerved her to see Jason like this, but at least he was finally talking. _How long has it been between missions? Just a few hours. Not long enough for any of us to recover, really. Certainly not Jason._ He'd gone in to see the Chief, headed down to Medical to have his arm taped, and then he'd met with the team. She wasn't even sure if he had eaten.

 _Is he exhausted? Can he handle the mission? Will he tell me if there's a problem?_ The biggest question loomed large in the corners of her mind: _Can I trust him?_

Almost as if he could read her thoughts, Jason looked up and said, "I'm an idiot," and sank into the nearest chair. He swore again. "I talked an intern into giving me numbing drops."

"You did *what*?" She blinked at him. _Is he serious?_

He looked at her levelly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. If I'm forced to rest right after a mission, I might as well get the most out of it. How was I supposed to know that Spectra would turn around and attack us again today?" He shook his head and buried his face in his good hand.

Princess fought hard not to scream at him. _We're only supposed to use those when we're out on Medical leave and inactive! What were you thinking?_

But she could guess exactly what he had been thinking. Physically immobilizing an injury helped the implant to speed recovery. Adding numbing drops cut your recovery time even further. Jason was desperate to hide any weakness, desperate to recover as soon as possible and be back in control of his life - and his health.

 _Well, he's not in control now_ , she thought. _And whether he likes it or not, he needs my help._ "How do you feel otherwise?" she asked.

"Apart from the fact that I can't move my hand?" Jason snapped, but he regarded her question more thoughtfully once he realized that she was waiting for a real answer. "Tired, but not exhausted. Other than my arm, I'm fine."

She crossed the room quickly, opened one of the cabinets in the kitchenette, and pulled out two energy bars and a bottle of water. Then she checked the everything drawer, the one filled with the random flotsam of their daily life: the spare key to Mark's apartment, Jason's half-chewed pens from the track, matches from Tiny's favorite restaurants, the magnifying glass from Keyop's insect habitat, even a few of Darien's drawing pencils. As soon as she found the scissors, she brought the items over to Jason and handed him the mini-meal. As he crammed the energy bars down his throat and chugged the water - confirming her suspicion that he hadn't had a chance to eat - Princess deftly cut off his bandages.

Both knew that you couldn't wear medical wraps during transmutation unless they were specially-made and incorporated into your official uniform. Early in their careers, Tiny had tried once when he had sprained his ankle. He had split the seams of his leggings right down the middle. Fortunately, it had only been a training exercise.

Special medical devices were costly. The Chief and 7-Zark-7 had worked with Engineering to add extra support in Jason's right boot to protect his newly healed ankle from further injury. Princess knew that the same wasn't true for Jason's wrist. Since this injury was minor, Medical wouldn't have consulted with Engineering to design a permanent solution.

As soon as he was done eating, Princess asked, "Can you move your hand to transmute?"

He gave her a sorrowful look in return. "I think so."

"Let's try it now," she said, urging him to stand. Moving in unison, their arms crossed their faces in an arc. Princess' fist moved with confidence. Jason's fingers remained splayed and immobile.

"Transmute," they shouted at the same time, flickers of light crossing their bodies, a joint halo of light dazzling them from top to bottom. Within seconds, the Condor and Swan were ready for action.

Almost.

Jason threw back his wings and conducted a brief series of stretches. Both shoulders went up and down. Each arm bent at the elbow. But only one wrist flexed back and forth.

The Condor looked at the Swan. "I'm going to need you to cover for me."

She nodded. They walked to the door of the ready room; he turned off the lights.

 _I'm not telling the others about this_ was left unspoken. But as they hurried down the hall, Princess broached the subject anyway.

"Jason, you don't need to tell anyone about the numbing drops. The effect only lasts what, three hours at most? The team knows you've hurt your wrist. So what if you're favoring it?"

He turned toward her with a pained expression. "And just how do I explain that I can't move my wrist at all?"

She smiled at him. "It's not going to come up. Send us out on recon. You'll be on the bridge anyway. We all know that you can fly one-handed." She smirked at him, remembering him bragging about that very subject. Jason rolled his eyes.

"If anything comes up, I'll handle it," she said. "That's what the second in command does, right?"

Even through his tinted visor, she could see a brief look of relief pass across his face. "Thank you." His words were nearly inaudible, even to her enhanced hearing.

At 7-Zark-7's insistent squawks, they ran the rest of the way to the Phoenix. Right before they leapt aboard the big ship, Jason pulled her aside. He spoke without preamble. "I'm sorry. You were right. I haven't been treating you fairly."

She looked at him in surprise and smiled.

Jason shook his head. "Being in command is a lot harder than it looks."

She gave him a quick hug. "You're doing fine, Jason. Now let's go splat some Spectrans."


	4. Chapter 4

"Status?" Jason asked as he stormed across the bridge. The Phoenix was almost ready for launch; the bay doors were open and the exterior holding chamber had nearly filled with sea water. Jason knew that he had missed the overview briefing with Chief Anderson, but it simply couldn't be helped now.

Keyop looked up. "Brrt ... doot ... Sector 4. Big ... brrp ... spider."

"Tiny, checks?"

"Completed," answered Darien, speaking before Tiny had even opened his mouth. The big pilot raised his eyebrows at Jason.

Jason fought the urge to reprimand G-6. _No wonder he gets on everyone's nerves._ At least the Rigan had completed his checks promptly this time.

"All systems go, Commander," Tiny said.

"All right," Jason replied. "What are we waiting for? Head to Sector 4."

"Big ten," answered Tiny as he set a course for a largely aquatic area near northern Japan. Given the speed of the Phoenix, it wasn't long before the team came upon their objective hovering above the Pacific Ocean just south of the Kuril Islands. The shiny black spider mecha was striking against the blue waves below. Sunlight glinted off of each writhing metallic leg.

"Yuck," said Tiny.

"Eww," agreed Princess. She shuddered. Darien rolled his eyes.

"Cool!" said Keyop.

Darien and Keyop each earned a frown from Jason. "What do we know about its capabilities?" Jason asked, drumming his fingers impatiently on the console while scowling at the mecha. _I wish I'd been there for the briefing._

"Maneuverable in both air and water," answered Darien.

"Targets ... nuclear ... doot ... power," said Keyop.

"Shoot lasers from its legs," added Tiny. "Those legs can stir up some real trouble."

As if on cue, the spider spotted them. Eight legs began to whir in a circle, creating a vortex. Water began to rise into the column, forming a water spout. Tiny fought for control of the Phoenix in the midst of violent turbulence.

"Battle stations," Jason ordered. "Tiny, take us up." He grabbed the console in front of him as the ship lurched sideways.

"I ... can't ... Jase ..." Tiny got out. "She's sucking us in."

"Emergency evasive action. Full power boosters, auxiliary power," commanded the Condor.

"Give me ... a hand ... with the stabilizer?" yelled Tiny, desperately trying to steer the big ship in the wake from the spider's legs. He gestured with his head. "That lever ... there."

Jason grabbed the lever with his good hand, but it was no use. The forces against it were too strong. He needed to be able to brace himself against the floor and yank with both hands. Before he could catch her eye, Princess was on her feet next to him, helping to pull back the control under the tremendous force of the twisting winds. Their combined efforts were working, but the Phoenix strained and swayed violently.

Princess glanced back at the stress factor gauge. "We're pushing tolerance, Commander!"

"Can't ... hold it ... much longer," huffed Tiny.

Just then, one of the eight legs lashed forward and bashed the Phoenix, clamping down over the front of the aircraft.

"Brrp ... hull ... doot ... doot ... cracking!" screamed Keyop.

"Falcon, get up here!" Jason yelled. Darien was on his feet next to Princess instantly. "Take this," Jason ordered as he moved quickly toward the lift. Darien grabbed the lever with both hands, shoving Princess aside. She glared at him, but he ignored her.

As she made her way back to her station, stumbling slightly as the ship violently jerked back and forth, Princess called out to Jason. "Where are you going?"

He was already in the lift. "To my car."

"No ... way," Tiny called back through his wrist com. "Wind's too strong."

"Do you see another option?" Jason snapped back. "We have to break its hold on us. We're not in position for a bird missile, but the gatling gun might work."

Anticipating the protests, Jason switched off his wrist communicator. As soon as the elevator door opened, he slid down the hatch to his car. He got into the vehicle with difficulty, forgetting that his left hand was useless. _Damn!_ Once in the car, he fired up the G-2 and lined up the gun sights. Everything took twice as long one-handed. Jason slammed the fist of his good hand against the dashboard in frustration and took a deep breath before flicking his wrist com back on. "G-5, I'm in position. Open the nose cone."

The metal shields covering the front of the Phoenix retracted with a clatter. The forces against his car were tremendous. He could hear the metallic whine of the grapples as they swayed back and forth in the gale-force winds. But, as he had suspected, one shiny black metal leg of the spider was right in front of his car.

 _Bingo!_

Jason fired a single shot into the beast. As expected, the leg jerked back, sending arcs of laser fire in random directions. Once the leg was further from the Phoenix, Jason pelted the spider with bullets. It seemed like forever until the leg began to smoke, sending a chain-reaction of explosions rocking through the beast. The Phoenix surged upward as the whirling of the remaining legs slowed, and Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

"G-2? You all right out there?"

"I'm fine, G-5," Jason said. "Fly directly over the spider and line me up for the legs. I'll keep firing. Get the Sparrow or the Falcon to launch a bird missile at the body. Let's take this thing out." Jason could hear the whoop on the flight deck even without his wrist com.

"Can I ... brrip ... do it, Commander?" Keyop's eager voice chirped happily through the wrist com.

He laughed. "Sure, Squirt. Just remember to use the firing grid."

 _We're almost there._ Jason reached under his visor and rubbed his eyes. For the first time during the mission, he was painfully aware of just how tired he was. _How many hours has it been since I've slept?_ He stifled a yawn. _Gotta focus. Legs. Laser legs._

The spider was caught off-guard by their offensive. Jason shot whenever Tiny had him lined up in the right direction. Two more legs went down. The Phoenix continued to twist and torque as Tiny dodged laser fire from the remaining legs. Jason breathed a sigh of relief that Tiny was piloting instead of him. Just when he was starting to despair of Keyop ever shooting the bird missile, he saw a torpedo of metal flash by and stab directly into the center of the spider's body.

There was a whoop from the bridge.

"Great shot, Keyop! Tiny, pull out. I think she's going to blow."

The words had barely left his lips when the spider exploded, sending a shower of metal fragments in all directions. Before he could even order the command, Tiny had closed the retractable doors covering the G-2, protecting him and his car from the flying shrapnel.

 _That was close._ He had been lucky. _No_ , Jason amended, _I'm lucky that I have them._

He climbed out of his car and stretched. This time, he allowed himself to yawn. With effort, Jason hoisted himself back up to the lift one-handed. He took a moment to catch his breath before entering the elevator. By the time he strode back to the flight deck, Tiny was flying the Phoenix in ever-widening arcs to survey the damage.

"Status?"

"Ka-pow!" said Keyop. "Spider splatted."

"Casualties?"

Darien shook his head. "7-Zark-7 reports that the nearby cities were evacuated." He smiled. "Fortunately, the spider was so busy attacking us, it didn't have time to inflict damage anywhere else."

Princess reported, "We're all clear."

"Nice work, everyone," Jason said, sinking into the Commander's chair. He closed his eyes. _I'm only going to rest for a minute_ , he told himself.

"You okay, Jase?" Tiny asked, just low enough that no one else could hear.

Jason's eyes popped open. "Fine, G-5. Take us home."

The ride back to Center Neptune was blissfully uneventful. As they approached the docking bay, Jason tested his reflexes. Finally, his left hand started to respond to his commands. _About damn time._

As soon as the ship had docked, each team member set about securing their stations. After a while, Keyop stood and headed toward the hatch.

"Wait a minute, Shorty," Jason said. "I go to debrief first, remember." He stifled a yawn and punched a button on the console in front of him. _This is taking forever._

"Brrp ... beep. Sorry, Jason." Keyop sat back down, contrite.

Princess stood up. "I'll finish up for you, Commander."

"Thanks," he responded. Jason leaned his head back against the seat and took a deep breath. Then he stood up, thwapped Keyop on the helmet as he walked by the boy, and left the ship.

* * *

As soon as Jason stepped off the bridge, Darien turned to Princess. "Is he all right?"

She nodded. "Tired. But aren't we all?" She gave Darien a slight smile, walked to the Commander's station, and continued to put things away.

Darien still looked concerned. "I thought he said his wrist injury was minor." Darien looked out of the hatch at the Condor, far below, leaving the docking bay.

Princess stopped her work and stared at Darien. "It is."

"Then why didn't he use his left hand once during this whole mission? He needed your help to man the stabilizer." He gave Princess an accusatory look.

Keyop looked up, wide-eyed. Tiny stared at Princess, concern splashed across his face.

Princess sighed, wishing Jason was there to defend himself. "Medical asked him not to." A half-lie was better than the truth.

Darien frowned and crossed his arms. "He should have said something. I can fire the gatling gun. It works better with two hands."

Tiny patted Darien on the shoulder. "Give him time. You've only worked together for a couple of missions. He doesn't know what you can do yet."

Darien kicked at the carpet. "He would if he bothered to ask." His expression hardened. "Or bothered to tell us when he needs help." He glared at Princess, then looked away.

Princess locked eyes with Tiny and shook her head. She gestured at Tiny over Darien's bowed head. _Can you take care of this?_

Tiny punched Darien playfully on the arm. "How about a rematch of that dart game, Falcon?"

Darien looked up and slowly smiled. "I'll cream you again, Harper."

Princess gave Tiny a grateful look. _Thank you_ , she mouthed.

 _Any time_ , he gestured back.

* * *

Debrief finished, Jason sat in Medical waiting for Jessie to tape up his arm.

"You back again?" she asked.

He yawned and nodded. He propped up his head on his good arm while she arranged the bandages and began to re-wrap his left wrist.

"Did the numbing drops help?" she questioned. When he didn't answer, all of the color drained from her face. "You were just on a mission, weren't you?"

Jason woke up in a hurry. "Yes," he admitted.

Her eyes widened, her expression horrified. He wanted to lie to her. He wanted to say that he hadn't used the numbing drops. But he just couldn't do it. She might only be an intern, but she was Medical, she needed to know. He couldn't risk setting his recovery times back any further than they already were. And it wasn't like she was going to tell anyone. If the truth came out, she would catch more flak than he would.

"It's not your fault," he said. "You didn't know."

"I'm so stupid!" she said. "Of course, I should have suspected. You're active again." She shook her head and began to unwrap what she had just started. "You've been in the field. I need to take another X-ray first." She sounded flustered.

"It's my fault," he said, trying to look penitent. "I asked you for the drops."

She looked at him and sighed. "I shouldn't have listened to you." She set aside the wrap.

He smirked at her. "I'm very persuasive."

Jessie laughed in spite of herself. "That you are," she said, as she led Jason down the corridor. After two X-rays and another thorough examination of his left wrist, she began to re-wrap Jason's arm. This time, however, she wasn't finished until the bandages extended well above his elbow. He looked down as his arm and flicked an annoyed glance at her.

"Is this my punishment?" he asked.

It was her turn to smirk. "You're supposed to keep your wrist immobile. Since you can't take the numbing drops, I want you to stop using your arm entirely."

At his horrified expression, she smiled at him a bit with more sincerity. "Within reason, of course."

"Just when can I take this lot off?" he asked. No way he could drive like this. Racing was out of the question. So was boxing. _What the hell am I going to do to relax?_

"Give it a few days, Jason." She reached out to pat him on the shoulder, but at his hard look, Jessie withdrew her hand and crossed her arms awkwardly instead. "You look exhausted. Go get some rest."

 _Great, someone else to baby me._ Jason stood up, ready to storm out of the room. Instead, he found himself fighting for balance. Jessie put a steady hand on his shoulder.

"Get some sleep," she insisted.

He nodded and walked out of the room.


End file.
